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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470273">Freckles and Constellations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionally_always/pseuds/occasionally_always'>occasionally_always</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Sanders Sides Gift Exchange 2020, pushing my red-haired-logan agenda, they're boys in loooveeeee, virgil lowkey has synesthesia but i didn't know how to work it further into the fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:02:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470273</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionally_always/pseuds/occasionally_always</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan’s voice quiets down. “I just want to know about the stars. Is it stupid that not being able to see them in real life is the most frustrating part to me about not having my soulmate yet?”</p><p>Virgil thinks about it for a moment. “No,” he says, “I don’t think that’s stupid.” And he doesn’t explain further, but internally he’s thinking that if the night sky can make Logan so passionate, can be something that it seems like he could talk about for hours and never get tired of, can make his eyes bright and his tone excited and make Virgil excited just by listening to him, then Logan deserves to see that sky and those stars, and it’s not stupid at all for him to be frustrated that he doesn’t get that.</p><p>The bell rings, and Virgil says goodbye to Logan but spends the rest of the day thinking about his freckles, and how his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, and the way he lit up when talking about the stars.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Freckles and Constellations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this for @ace-in-a-shopping-cart for the Sanders Sides secret santa gift exchange over on tumblr, drawing from the analogical and soulmate au wishes. I feel like the soulmate premise got a bit convoluted, so I'll try to explain it in the end note if anyone's confused. I fell out of this fandom a while ago but I really enjoyed writing this. Thanks for reading &lt;3<br/>Oh, and Freckles and Constellations by Dodie is absolutely the song to listen to with this fic :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rhythm of the music echoes in his head; starbursts of color play across his closed eyelids in time with the notes, and the melody feels like it is dancing and weaving through his mind.</p><p>And then someone taps firmly on his shoulder, and Virgil Tempestas blinks open his eyes to fluorescent lights, poster-dotted walls, and the tired face of his astronomy teacher.</p><p>He fumbles to pause his music and take his headphones off, anxiety churning in his gut. It’s only the second week of school and he’s already messed up, judging by the expression on Mrs. Andrea’s face. He glances at her furrowed eyebrows and then away again. Despite school having started days ago, this is his first day in astronomy, and he doesn’t know what to expect from her; all he knows is that this is her first impression of him, and it’s one he did not want to make.</p><p>“Class is starting in a moment,” is all she says, in a voice Virgil isn’t sure how to interpret. He nods, still looking down at the desk, and his fingers only stop tapping frantically against his thigh when she walks away to the front of the room. The bell rings right on cue, tinny and jarring, and Virgil scrambles to pull out his notebook and pens; he really hadn’t realized class would be starting so soon. The back of his neck flushes hot with embarrassment.</p><p>“Today’s another work day for the first half of class,” Mrs. Andrea says; she doesn’t raise her voice very much over the chatter of a group of kids at one of the back desks close to Virgil, so he has to strain to hear her. “Virgil, work with Logan. Everyone try to keep it down, if you would.” With that, she sits down at her desk and turns her attention to the papers strewn across it.</p><p>Well, at least Virgil now knows what to expect from her. The apathetic teachers aren’t the worst sort, but he does wish he’d have gotten a bit more explanation as to the assignment or even who Logan is.</p><p>He finds this out a moment later, when a freckled boy with ferociously red and curly hair slides into the seat next to him, black binder in tow. “I wasn’t aware you were in this class, Virgil.”</p><p>The dregs of Virgil’s memory pull out a name for him—Logan Rubus, who was in his chemistry lab group last year, a boy with curly red hair, oddly formal clothes, and pale skin absolutely splattered with freckles, and who’s sitting next to him right now.</p><p>“Yeah,” he mutters, twisting his fingers together under the table and wondering why he can remember Logan’s full name but nothing about what kind of person he is. “There weren’t enough people in painting, so I had to find a new elective.” The school had canceled the class after a week of waiting to see if more students would sign up; astronomy was the only other class that could fit into that place on Virgil’s schedule.</p><p>“Hm." Logan pushes his glasses up his nose. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. The rest of this class just took it because they want to learn about soulmates or show off their own, I think.”</p><p>Virgil grimaces at that. He already knew that this class would only be a constant reminder that he doesn’t yet have a soulmate, but annoying classmates will only make it worse.</p><p>“But you don’t?” he asks. “I mean, don’t have a soulmate? Why learn about constellations that you can’t even see?” He immediately bites down on his tongue after the question, because that was definitely out of line, too cutting, too invasive; he squeezes his hands tight together under his desk and steadfastly avoids looking at Logan.</p><p>But Logan doesn’t seem bothered by the question. “Precisely <em> because </em> I can’t see them,” he says, and his voice sounds excited enough that Virgil chances a look. His eyes are focused on Virgil, shining with intensity, and Virgil has this thought—only for a moment, and it’s stupid, really—that they're as bright as the stars of the constellation Virgil sees at night.</p><p>Before Logan can elaborate further, though he certainly seems like he wants to, their attention is caught by Mrs. Andrea rapping her knuckles loudly on their desk. “This doesn’t look like working. I know you haven’t finished the chart assignment yet, Logan, and obviously <em> you </em>—” She points at Virgil with her pen, and he looks down at his desk, feeling like he’s in way more trouble than he ought to be. “—have quite a bit of catching up to do.”</p><p>It’s something about the way she says it, combined with her stern expression and that stupid pen; Virgil suddenly decides he really <em> shouldn’t </em> be in this much trouble, and she has no reason to be upset with him for having been in a different class the last two weeks. “You haven’t exactly told me what I have to do,” he snaps back.</p><p>She looks rather taken aback, which he takes satisfaction in. “I’ll—I thought I gave you that stack of papers,” she says, before starting back to her desk, presumably to get them.</p><p>“Well, you didn’t,” Virgil mutters under his breath.</p><p>“I was under the impression you were shy,” Logan comments, looking at him with those bright hazel eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, well. I actually used to get in trouble with teachers all the time for back-talking or whatever.”</p><p>“Used to?”</p><p>“I felt really guilty for upsetting my mom so much. And I started working on better ways to deal with my anxiety, I guess.”</p><p>Virgil’s not sure why he told Logan that much, but the other boy sounds weirdly genuine when he says, “That’s...admirable.”</p><p>Virgil looks away, tapping his fingers absentmindedly as he feels his face heat up. “Um. Thanks.” He looks up as Mrs. Andrea hands him the reading and worksheets for the first two weeks of class before walking away again. “I should probably get to work on this stuff.”</p><p>He spends the rest of work time getting through some of the reading. Logan’s doing some reading of his own—an Agatha Christie novel, which Virgil is sure is far what Mrs. Andrea meant by the “chart assignment,” but he’s not going to judge. In any case, he gets absorbed in the textbook, and if Logan hadn’t tapped him on the shoulder he wouldn’t have noticed Mrs. Andrea had starting talking at the front of the room.</p><p>“As you know,” she says, “this class moves quickly, seeing as it’s only one term. Late work for the last unit will be due next week, but we’re starting our unit on soulmates today.”</p><p>Virgil can’t help but let his head thunk onto his desk. “I joined at the absolute worst time, didn’t I,” he groans quietly.</p><p>“I think we all know the basics, but I’m passing out a paper for you and your partner to read back and forth to each other, so you get familiar with the way the textbook talks about it.”</p><p>Logan sighs loudly beside him.</p><p>“After that you’ll read about your group project that’s due in another three weeks. Your partners are your tablemates. Get to work, everybody.”</p><p>“Well, <em> this </em> is going to be fun,” Virgil grumbles, still facedown on the desk. He closes his eyes, trying to focus on the cool wood against his skin instead of the ball of anxiety in his stomach at the prospect of both a group project and a unit on soulmates. At least his only tablemate is Logan.</p><p>“Was that sarcasm?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Ah. Yes, I agree.”</p><p>The handout is placed in front of them, and although Virgil would be perfectly happy not reading it at all, he hears Logan start on the first paragraph and begrudgingly sits up straight to follow along.</p><p>“‘Soulmates are people intrinsically linked together by the universe, or perhaps only in the context of it. Although it has existed for all of human memory, the science behind this phenomenon is relatively unknown. Lake’s essay in 1749 was one of the first cohesive texts on soulmates that presented an informational and scientific approach. That particular reading will be covered in a later part of the unit.’” Logan sighs. “I’m not looking forward to that.”</p><p>“I hate this already,” Virgil agrees, but picks up his paper to continue reading anyway. “‘Some people have romantic soulmates, others platonic; many have more than one, and some have no soulmates at all. What everyone shares in common is the way constellations relate to this. Those without soulmates are able to see every star in the sky from the moment they’re born. Those with soulmates, however, see only the constellation or constellations that their soulmate or soulmates can, until they meet them and a specific moment is shared between them. This moment can’t be defined in a way that’s applicable to everyone, but emotion is always a factor, and physical touch—taking each other’s hands, sharing a kiss, et cetera—frequently plays a part.’ Have I mentioned I really hate this?”</p><p>“‘It’s most commonly described as feeling like something has clicked into place, and instantly, the rest of the night sky becomes visible—or not so instantly, if it took place during the day,’” Logan reads. “‘Approximately 50% of the population, around half,’ as if we didn’t know what 50% meant—‘around half, have found at least one of their soulmates by the time they graduate from high school.’”</p><p>“Hence our stupid classmates,” adds Virgil.</p><p>“I wouldn’t go so far as <em> stupid </em>. They’re certainly annoying, though,” admits Logan. “You weren’t here until now, but I’ve been suffering for two weeks. Someone needs to tell them that not everything has to be soulmate-centered.”</p><p>Virgil stifles a laugh. “I’m sorry that you’ve had to suffer all by yourself. Now we can suffer together, though.”</p><p>“Absolutely.” Logan smiles at him, revealing dimples that are frankly adorable. “Well, shall we continue reading?”</p><p>“It’s stuff we know already, can we skip to whatever the project is?”</p><p>“I suppose we might as well.” They both flip the paper to the other side, and Logan frowns down at it. “These directions are quite vague.”</p><p>“‘Make a presentation in poster or slideshow format that focuses on the constellations of the night sky in a creative way. Connect soulmates however you see fit,’” Virgil reads aloud. “Yeah, this sucks.”</p><p>“At least we have three weeks to figure it out.” Logan glances at the clock. “We only have five minutes left for today, though. You might as well get some more work caught up on.”</p><p>“Logan?” ventures Virgil, trying to ignore the way his pulse feels far more present than usual at the thought of asking someone he barely knows such a straightforward question. “Actually, I was wondering—you started to tell me about why you were taking this class earlier…”</p><p>Logan adjusts his glasses as he looks back at Virgil. “It’s not anything too important.”</p><p>“I know, but I wanted to hear about it,” Virgil says, forcing his sentence to stay a statement instead of arcing up into a nervous question.</p><p>“Oh.” Logan looks genuinely surprised, but as he starts to talk, his tone finds excitement again, and his eyes regain that brightness. “I just...genuinely want to learn about the stars. I mean, I already know almost everything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love taking a class about it. It’s fascinating, honestly, the way that people from thousands of years ago were able to look at the sky and see the same constellations that exist today.” His hands are gesticulating as he talks, the gestures not having a clear point besides serving to emphasize his obvious passion. “And this way, I’m not missing anything because I don’t have my soulmate.”</p><p>“Except said soulmate,” Virgil points out.</p><p>“Right, of course. But that doesn’t really matter to me.” Logan’s voice quiets down, along with his hands. “I just want to know about the stars. Is it stupid that not being able to see them in real life is the most frustrating part to me about not having my soulmate yet?”</p><p>Virgil thinks about it for a moment. “No,” he says, “I don’t think that’s stupid.” And he doesn’t explain further, but internally he’s thinking that if the night sky can make Logan so passionate, can be something that it seems like he could talk about for hours and never get tired of, can make his eyes bright and his tone excited and make <em> Virgil </em> excited just by listening to him, then Logan deserves to see that sky and those stars, and it’s not stupid at all for him to be frustrated that he doesn’t get that.</p><p>The bell rings, and Virgil says goodbye to Logan but spends the rest of the day thinking about his freckles, and how his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, and the way he lit up when talking about the stars.</p><p> </p><p>Astronomy class the next day is another work day. Virgil is beginning to think Mrs. Andrea doesn’t teach anything herself. He’s not complaining, though. It means catching up on what he’d missed is as simple as doing some reading and filling out short answer questions on it, and he got most everything done last night. He tells Logan this when the other boy asks if he needs time to work on anything.</p><p>“That’s great,” says Logan, smiling at him. Virgil can’t help but smile back.</p><p>They should be working on their project, but they quickly get sidetracked and end up exchanging stories about what astronomy and painting, respectively, were like the first week of school. And then Logan ends up on a tangent about one of the early assignments, and Virgil listens closely as he explains about what the textbook left out and what that says about Eurocentric school systems. It trails back into stars eventually, and Virgil ends up learning a lot more from Logan’s rant than from what he’d read in the textbook. This class, Virgil is starting to think, might not be so bad after all.</p><p>“Oh, we’ve used up the whole period,” says Logan, frowning at the clock as though the fault lies entirely on the passage of time. “And we still haven’t figured out the project. Do you have free time after school?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Virgil replies, caught a bit off guard by the question.</p><p>“Great. Would meeting at the frozen yogurt place be acceptable?”</p><p>“Marge’s Ice Cream?”</p><p>“Yes, that one.”</p><p>And so Virgil ends up texting his mom to let her know he’s not walking straight home after school, and around four o’clock he’s sitting at a counter with lemon-flavored frozen yogurt, telling Logan about how the rest of his school day was. It’s honestly too cold outside for ice cream of any sort, but the heat in Marge’s is working just fine and he feels weirdly content licking yogurt off his spoon and listening to Logan talk in return about his own classes.</p><p>“Astronomy would be my favorite if it was actually taught properly,” sighs Logan. “Honestly, I could teach it better than Mrs. Andrea.”</p><p>“You probably could,” agrees Virgil. “You’re really good at explaining things.”</p><p>Logan flushes bright red to match his hair. “Thank you.”</p><p>They end up spending the afternoon there, chatting and spending way too much money on refills of frozen yogurt. By the time Virgil starts walking home, it’s already dark out, the changing seasons having brought on shorter days. He wishes he had brought a warmer coat. And the pocketknife currently on his dresser that he usually carries for self-defense. Not that he’s ever had to use it, but walking by himself in the dark feels like enough of a risk that a small stabby object brings him comfort. The distraction of his music will have to do—he pulls his headphones on and starts an Evanescence playlist, letting his eyes unfocus in lieu of muscle memory taking him home, and listening with his entire being to the singer’s voice, the piano, the way the music feels like it makes him whole. Music has always done that. Songs are something that envelop him, that he can dissolve into, and he loves it.</p><p>He looks up as he walks, staring at the dark sky, the moon barely even a sliver. His gaze traces it way across the inky canvas of night until it reaches the other bright aspect of it—his constellation, the one his soulmate sees too, the only one he’s ever been able to see. The five stars, arranged in a kind of zigzag shape almost like a W, seem to stare back at him, and they’re both a comfort and an insult.</p><p>Because Virgil really, really wants a soulmate.</p><p>He wants someone who loves him. Someone who doesn’t get annoyed with him, with his anxiety, with his headphones and dark music. And his constellation is a reminder of that person being out there, <em> existing </em> . But Virgil wants to <em> find </em> them, not spend the rest of his life staring up at that constellation in the middle of a dark sky.</p><p>He wonders if Logan would understand. His longing is something he’s always kept close to himself, but he thinks he wouldn’t mind sharing it with Logan. There’s not much he <em> would </em> mind sharing with Logan, talking about to him, hearing what he has to say.</p><p>Virgil shakes the thought from his mind as though it will also shake the blush from his cheeks, and hurries home.</p><p> </p><p>The next two weeks are spent in much the same way—getting together during class work time and outside of school to brainstorm, and in the end doing nothing productive at all. It turns out that they both have a hard time with vague instructions, which leaves them at a loss for a premise for their project, and as the days pass, it takes less and less time for their initial brainstorming sessions to dissolve into conversation about anything and everything.</p><p>At one point, Logan brings up the headphones that Virgil wears everywhere; if not over his ears walking to and from classes and whatever ice cream shop or café they’ve dug up to work at, then around his neck as a sort of comforting weight. And Virgil tells him about how they help with his anxiety, how his <em> music </em> helps, how he knows “emo music” is cringe but he genuinely loves it and wishes he could have music playing all the time.</p><p>“I think that’s kind of a beautiful thing,” says Logan, and the way he says it—it makes Virgil believe it. “Will you play me your music some time?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’d like to,” Virgil says back, and immediately comes to the conclusion that he’s going insane, because while <em> I’d like to </em> was what came out of his mouth, <em> I like you </em> was what was going through his head. “Some other time,” he adds on hurriedly. “We only have a week left for the project.”</p><p> </p><p>In any case, his temporary bout of insanity is out of his mind by the time he’s walking into astronomy class the next day. “You look deep in thought,” he comments lightheartedly as he slides into his seat next to Logan.</p><p>“Do you know,” Logan says instead of replying, turning to Virgil to reveal his hair is clipped back with a couple dark barrettes today, “much about Greek mythology?”</p><p>Virgil hesitates, thinking back to his brief Percy Jackson phase in elementary school. “...Not really. I’m assuming you do?”</p><p>“Not as much as I’d like,” admits Logan.</p><p>“What do you know about it, then?”</p><p>“Well, there’s this one myth,” Logan starts, getting that look in his eye that tells Virgil he’s about to start rambling. Virgil leans forward, chin in hands, feeling his heart beat a bit faster at that look—cheeks pink with excitement, his eyes shining, his curly hair barely tamed by the stray clips, his hands fidgeting with a pen as he talks. “A queen, who was extremely vain. And there was a sea god named Nereus who had daughters, and the queen said she and <em> her </em> daughters were more beautiful than the Nereids—the sea god’s daughters—and it made Poseidon angry.”</p><p>“Why was it Poseidon that got angry?”</p><p>“Because he’s the main god of the oceans, so the Nereids were part of that—whole—thing,” Logan explains, waving his arms around as though that will help him find the proper words. Virgil holds back a giggle at that, instead saying, “You seem to know quite a lot about Greek mythology after all.”</p><p>“Really not that much,” Logan replies, looking almost self-conscious.</p><p>“Still.” Virgil’s heart is speeding up yet again for no discernible reason, as he continues, “I’ve only seen you get this way when you’re talking about the stars.”</p><p>“What way?” asks Logan, tilting his head.</p><p>“Um—I guess just—passionate. Like you could talk about it for ages and never get tired. It’s—” Virgil trips over his own tongue as he realizes he was about to say <em> beautiful </em>.</p><p>For once, Logan doesn’t have a wordy reply, only saying, “Oh.” And for a moment, the two of them just look at each other.</p><p>“Is it annoying?” Logan asks quietly, and Virgil’s heart, which had been beating so frantically, nearly stops.</p><p>“No! No, definitely not,” he’s quick to say, a bit too loudly. “I—like it.”</p><p>“Okay,” says Logan, and there’s no embarrassment in his expression, or laughter at Virgil, or anything to say he’s been weirded out. Instead, a smile is tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m glad.”</p><p>Virgil ducks his head, feeling his face heat up.</p><p>“It’s the myth behind my constellation,” Logan explains. “That’s why I know it so well.”</p><p>But Virgil barely processes this, because he’s too focused on the words “myth” and “constellation.” “Oh—we could do our project on that,” he exclaims. “The mythology behind constellations.”</p><p>Logan looks just as excited as him at having had a breakthrough in their project. “That’s an excellent idea, Virgil.” He tugs out a piece of paper from his binder and starts writing. “Let’s get everything down on here.”</p><p>“We could just brainstorm on the actual slideshow,” Virgil points out, already opening his laptop.</p><p>“Oh,” Logan says, looking surprised. “I had assumed we would be doing a more traditional poster.”</p><p>They stare at each other for a moment before they both start to laugh. Virgil’s not entirely sure what they’re laughing <em> about </em>, probably their opposing assumptions—even though that’s not funny enough for them to be laughing like this, this moment he’s swept up in, of loud laughter and flushed cheeks and thoughts of the stars. Of a boy sitting next to him who loves those stars just as much as Virgil loves him.</p><p>This last bit comes out of nowhere, and after another moment contemplating his own insanity, Virgil decides not to think about it too much. He does not have nearly enough energy to dissect this particular train of thought.</p><p>They spend the rest of their time together figuring out the format for their presentation and doing some research, and Virgil’s already halfway to his house before he realizes Logan had never finished telling him about the myth. <em>Logan’s</em> myth. Logan’s constellation.</p><p>Virgil immediately feels guilty, because he’s the one who cut Logan off in the first place. He feels like he’s betrayed Logan somehow, or even himself, because listening to Logan talk is one of his favorite things, and he <em> knows </em> Logan feels insecure about how much he talks, and he <em> cut him off </em>.</p><p>He can’t tell if he’s overreacting or not, can’t tell how much of this churning guilt is induced by his anxiety disorder and how much is reasonable; but he doesn’t feel like talking it out with anyone, so the guilt stays for the rest of the night.</p><p>When he hits the hour mark of not being able to sleep, he decides to get up and try to find the rest of the myth himself. The glow of the laptop in the dark room hurts Virgil’s eyes, and he rubs at them before pulling up Google to type in “greek myth vain queen.” A Wikipedia article on Cassiopeia is one of the first links, so he clicks on it, and sure enough: under the “Mythology” header is what Logan had been describing to him (although he hadn’t gotten to the whole sacrificing-your-daughter-and-being-tied-to-a-torture-chair thing).</p><p>The next header is “Constellation,” and Virgil hovers his mouse over the blue word “Cassiopeia” in the text to find an image of a chart of the night sky. His eyes skim over it briefly and move away before it catches up to him.</p><p>His breath stops in his throat. He hovers the cursor over it again. Stars, and stars, and more stars, and right in the middle, a constellation labeled Cassiopeia—five stars in a zigzag shape, almost like a W.</p><p>That’s his constellation.</p><p>That’s <em> his </em> constellation.</p><p>That. Is. Virgil’s. Constellation.</p><p>His heart is pounding so loudly that it’s like the beat of a terrifying song. He slams the laptop closed and winces at how loud it was before folding his knees up to his chest and clutching them tight. <em> Breathe </em>, he reminds himself, but it’s getting harder and he doesn’t even know why, and in the end he gets out his headphones, because music always calms him down.</p><p>For a while he just lays there in the dark, letting the angry delight of My Chemical Romance wrap itself around him as he forces down his anxiety. But finally, he sits back up and digs through his blankets for his phone, because he has to know. He has to make sure.</p><p>Virgil hasn’t ever texted Logan about anything besides meeting up to attempt to work on their project, and so even though he’s sure they consider each other friends, it feels out of place when he slowly types in a casual, <em> Hey. I was wondering if the myth behind your constellation that you were talking about was the one about Cassiopeia. </em> But he sends it anyway.</p><p>Even though it’s nearly eleven at night, Logan replies with an affirmation almost instantly. Sending a picture of Wikipedia's star chart that outlines Cassiopeia leads to the same reply, this time with a <em> Why did you want to know? </em> tacked on the end.</p><p><em> Can we meet somewhere? </em> types Virgil, with shaking fingers and a racing heart, and hits send before he can delete it.</p><p>And Logan, sweet Logan—he doesn’t ask why, doesn’t press, only says <em> Of course </em>, like saying or thinking anything else hadn’t even occurred to him. Maybe it hadn’t. Virgil has to take a moment just to tuck his head into arms and breathe, because here he is, close to a panic attack in the middle of the night because he's overthinking everything, and here Logan is, apparently ready to drop whatever he was doing just because Virgil asked him to meet. It’s overwhelming, and somehow it's wonderful, and Virgil wants to cry. And most of all, he really, really wants to see Logan.</p><p> </p><p>Fifteen minutes later, they’re standing across from each other at the small park near Virgil’s house. It’s a new moon, so the only light in the sky is that of the constellation that Virgil is now sure both of them are seeing.</p><p><em> We’re seeing the same sky </em>, he thinks, and the thought hits him like the chorus of a song—like everything has been building up to it but it’s still the beginning, like his life has been a melody that has just come home.</p><p>Logan follows his gaze to the sky. And the two of them just stand there, less than a few feet away from each other, silent as the light of their—<em> their </em>—constellation glows above them.</p><p>“I hadn’t ever tried to figure out what my constellation was called,” Virgil says, voice breaking the silence but still quiet. Neither of them look away from the sky, but he knows Logan is listening.</p><p>“I looked up the myth you were talking about,” he continues, even though his heart is trying to leap out of his throat, “because you never finished telling me about it.” He wants Logan to know how much he cares about what he has to say.</p><p>“Cassiopeia,” Logan breathes, and Virgil tears his gaze away from the five stars above them to look at the one who has just spoken their name.</p><p>“Cassiopeia,” echoes Virgil, and Logan meets his gaze.</p><p>The air feels charged, electric, and when Logan’s hazel eyes meet his own, something resonates with him the same way a good song does when the rhythm of the music pounds through his mind, starbursts of color playing across his closed eyelids in time with the notes, and the melody feeling like it is dancing and weaving through his skull.</p><p>They hold out their hands to each other at the same time, and Virgil doesn’t let himself think before his fingers find Logan’s and he holds on tight.</p><p>Stars spread outward from that point of touch as if someone had flicked a paintbrush at them to make to droplets of galaxy fall across their skin—patterns of constellations and nebulae washing over them like they are canvases and the stars are the art laid upon them, like they are words on a page and the night sky is the music that brings those words to life. And above them, the actual sky is a mirror, stars flickering into life in a rippling wave from that one point of contact—Cassiopeia.</p><p>“We’re soulmates, then,” breathes Logan.</p><p>“I’d say so,” laughs Virgil, feeling giddy and warm and wonderful. And Logan smiles back at him.</p><p>They spend a moment just looking at each other, and it feels like magic. It feels like love.</p><p>And then Logan says, “I'm really sorry, but I need to get home.”</p><p>“Oh, uh, yeah. Me too.” Virgil looks down, pulling his hands back awkwardly. They're still reflecting the sky, his skin covered in glowing stars, though that's beginning to dissipate.</p><p>“But—” Logan adjusts his glasses and takes a breath. “Tomorrow’s Tuesday. Marge’s will be open.”</p><p>Virgil looks up to the sky. It’s breathtaking; he never wants to look away from the stars and constellations and galaxies, from the universe above them. And then he looks at Logan, and thinks for just a moment that it’s as though Logan is that same universe. His eyes holding the stars, his freckles the constellations, his skin the galaxies even as they slowly fade and leave it the same pale canvas as before.</p><p>“I’ll see you there after school, then,” he says, and they part ways.</p><p>Virgil pulls his headphones on as he walks away from the park, and as his music starts playing, he lets himself smile.</p><p> </p><p>They do a poster in the end, presenting it that Friday, and Mrs. Andrea nods at them when they’re done, reminding them it’ll get graded over the weekend. The rest of school passes quickly, and then they walk to Virgil’s house together.</p><p>“Here,” he says, sitting on his bed with Logan. He holds out his headphones. “You mentioned me playing you music a while ago. This is one of my favorite songs.”</p><p>“Oh, do I get to hear your angsty rock music now?” Logan puts them on as he lays back onto the bed.</p><p>“No, actually,” admits Virgil, wishing his heart would calm itself a little, because it feels about ready to jump out of his skin. “It’s by Dodie Clark. It’s kind of indie, I guess? It’s called Freckles and Constellations.” He hits play before Logan can respond, and watches as his boyfriend’s—<em> his boyfriend’s </em>—eyes flutter closed, his expression showing that he’s listening intently.</p><p>When the song ends, Logan sits back up and smiles widely at Virgil. “I loved it,” he says, passing back the headphone, and Virgil smiles back, feeling his heart settle into a more content rhythm. And they look at each other, and it still feels like magic when Virgil looks into Logan's eyes; it still feels like love.</p><p>“I did realize something, though.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“Our project? We forgot to have a part about soulmates.”</p><p>They stare at each other, and then burst out laughing. They’re sure to get a bad grade for it, but Virgil can’t find it in himself to care, not during this moment he’s swept up in of loud laughter and flushed cheeks and thoughts of the meaning of stars. Of a boy sitting next to him who loves those stars just as much as Virgil loves him, and who someway, somehow, loves Virgil too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you have one soulmate, you don't see any stars at night except for one specific constellation. Your soulmate sees the same. When you meet them and have a "moment" that involves realization and love and whatever else makes my plot make sense, you're both able to see the rest of the stars (and in the case of Virgil and Logan, being under the night sky when this happens, for a moment the stars exist on their skin as well. Because magical imagery is fun to write. My worldbuilding isn't very cohesive lmao). I kind of drew from the various soulmate aus involving what colors you can see.<br/>Virgil and Logan are precious, I love them very much, and I hope you enjoyed reading this--drop a comment if you did, and let me know if you got confused. Have a lovely day, yall</p></blockquote></div></div>
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